Return To Valinor
by okeydokeyworld
Summary: "Welcome to Valinor! Lord Tolkien!" shouts the screaming crowds. "Hello, old friend." says Saruman. When Tolkien died, he went to Middle Earth, and nothing or nobody can tell me otherwise. Now read, to find out what he did there.
1. Chapter 1

**I wrote this for a friend, and I hope she likes it.  
I do not own anything, and my lawyer isn't helping either.  
** **And for those of you who do not know:**

 **November 29 1973, was the day J.R.R Tolkien died...yeah, so let's not get too sad here...read!**

* * *

 **November 29 1973, England.**

John Ronald Ruel Tolkien lay on his bed inside of his Bournemouth house.  
His face was relaxed and peaceful, and a thin sheet covered him from the ocean breeze that was blowing through the open windows.

* * *

When Tolkien opened his eyes, he found himself on his back, staring at a blue sky.

Puzzled, the British author rolled over and climbed to his feet.

Scrutinizing his surroundings, Tolkien realized he was no longer in his bedroom in England, but aboard a grey ship.

White sails fluttered over his head, gulls were perched on the masts, and cawing into the sky.

Tolkien walked across the ship's deck and peered over one side of the carven wood railing, the green water of an clear ocean frothed beneath the ship, sending up sprays of fine mist that periodically drenched Tolkien, but he stayed at the railing, staring down into the crystal clear water in bewilderment.

A robed figure approached the English professor from behind, Tolkien spun around when he heard the sound of footsteps, and came face to face with a being adorned in silver clothing.

The being held up a pale hand "I am Cirdan the Shipwright." he greeted.

A look of remembrance flashed across Tolkien's face, followed by a look of understanding, _"Mae govanen, Elen sila lumen omentilmo."_ he said.

A smile graced Cirdan's bearded face, "Mae govanen, Lord Tolkien, Elf friend." he replied.

"Please, just call me Tolkien." said Tolkien.

Cirdan held out an arm in a sweeping gesture. " Lord Tolkien, permit me to escort you to your cabin." Cirdan said.

"Just Tolkien." the British author reminded him.

* * *

Three days later, Tolkien was standing on the ship's deck, dressed in elvish robes.

He was looking out into the West, staring with awe at the approaching white shores of the island of Tol Eressa, and watching the green country become illuminated under the radiant and swiftly rising sunrise, that stretched its rays out over and beyond the island, towards the ocean.

Cirdan joined him on the deck, "Welcome to your home, Lord Tolkien." said the elf. "Just Tolkien," murmured Tolkien.

The ship docked in a white harbor, thousands of people thronged around the harbor, clamoring and cheering as the grey ship was moored.

When Cirdan threw down the gangplank, the crowd's voices rose to a deafening cheer, but when Tolkien came into view, the citizens of Tol Eressa proverbially went wild.

Tolkien walked down the gangplank, waving to the screaming crowds, his garment's long sleeves flapping whenever he raised his arms.

Tolkien was nearing the end of the gangplank, but due to being unaccustomed to elvish clothing, he tripped over the hem of his robe, but a white arm caught him before he could fall.

Galadriel smiled at Tolkien as she helped him regain his balance, "Welcome, Lord Tolkien." she said graciously, "You have served us well."

"Hannon Le, my Lady." said Tolkien, rolling up the sleeves of his robe.

Galadriel linked her arm with his, and pulled him through the crowd with her.

As they maneuvered their way through the shouting throng, Celeborn, Gandalf, Erestor and Glorfindel converged on them from four different directions.

Celeborn greeted Tolkien with a wide smile, "Welcome Lord Tolkien." he said. "Celeborn, it's just Tolkien" grinned Tolkien.

"Tolkien!" yelled Glorfindel, the Balrog slayer abandoned all prentices of a formal greeting in favor of running up to the British professor and encasing him in a hug. "Glorfindel...I need to...breath" gasped Tolkien.

The golden-haired elf grinned and unwrapped himself from the professor's side.

Erestor frowned at Glorfindel, and then elegantly bowed to Tolkien, "It is an honor to meet you in person, Lord Tolkien." said Erestor, a look of star-struck admiration on his face.

"It is just _Tolkien,_ please." the professor reminded him.

Gandalf greeted the British professor next.

"Tolkien." said Gandalf solemnly, "Gandalf." Tolkien replied, holding out his hand, Gandalf shook his hand, a hearty smile spreading across his wizened face, "Welcome home, my friend." said the wizard.

"Do you wish to see the hobbits, Lord Tolkien? " questioned Erestor. A look of amazement crossed Tolkien's face. "The hobbits are here too?" he asked.

Galadriel smiled sweetly at him, "We are _all_ here, Lord Tolkien, no one is good or evil in this place, we exist here as we were meant be."

"But this is Tol Eressa, the island of the _elves_ that are not permitted to enter Valinor, how can everyone be here?"

"They have all been permitted to gather here to welcome you" Celeborn explained.

"Just to welcome me?" queried Tolkien. "Yes, for you, you worked together with Eru to create us and chronicle our lives." said Galadriel.

"You will be honored by numerous celebrations and gifts." added Erestor.

"And it is rumored that the Valar themselves will attend the celebratory feast." chipped in Glorfindel.

"Wait, a feast? Celebrations? The Valar?" That is all not necessary, I assure you." Tolkien modestly protested.

Gandalf wrapped his arm around Tolkien's shoulder's, "I will not allow you to flee from the honor that rightfully belongs to you." declared the wizard. "Tolkien, you are worse than Aragorn."

"Well, it was hard enough to get Aragorn on the throne," agreed Tolkien, " I do not wish to cause you more trouble, but before our revels start, take me to the hobbits please."

The crowd parted to let their celebrities pass, and Tolkien and his escort of elves began to walk away from the white harbor.

As he waved to the ecstatic masses, the professor thanked the heavens above that none of the elves knew what an _autograph_ was.

* * *

 _ **To be Continued...**_

Tell me what you think...please!


	2. Chapter 2

As Tolkien's entourage led him away from the pearly harbor, the crowds became more sparse, although the cheering and screaming of Tolkien's fan-elves did not diminish as they walked away.

The professor could still hear them as he walked through the empty, glittering streets.

Tol Eressa was vacant, half the population having gathered at the harbor to meet Tolkien, while the other half had been set diligently to work to prepare and organize the food, decorations, and entertainment for a celebration of the likes that had never been seen before.

And soon, even the crowds at the harbor were to be funneled into their assigned jobs.

So every house was empty, small tasks of various importance had even been found for the children. Only the highest ranking personages were exempt from labor, but only to be clapped with the title and responsibilities of acting as Tolkien's guides, guards, and general aide-de-camps.

And even despite that, it was unsure if the preparations for the feast would all be completed on time.

With his left arm still firmly wrapped around Tolkien's shoulders, Gandalf withdrew a long wooden pipe from his white robes with his right hand, and offered it to Tolkien.

Tolkien took the pipe, a grin splitting his face. He withdrew a box of matches from deep within the folds of his elven robes, and lit the pipe which was already stuffed with leaf.

He put the pipe to his lips, inhaling the potent smoke and savoring the taste of fresh tobacco. Tolkien released the pipe from his lips after a few seconds and blew a perfect smoke ring into the passing breeze.

"Longbottom Leaf?" Tolkien said, looking to Gandalf for conformation. The wizard nodded. "We saved the last batch that was harvested for you."

"Thank you." Tolkien said, raising the pipe back up to his lips, and sending more smoke rings tumbling into the air.

Gandalf withdrew his own pipe and lit it, and the two walked along in a haze of pungent smoke. 

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Tell. Me. What. You. Think.


	3. Chapter 3

The last ember in Tolkien's pipe faded out as he and Gandalf walked out onto a grassy sward of land ringed by trees. The grass was a vivid emerald green, that almost seemed to glow.

Short figures danced and capered on the shimmering grass, calling happily to one another. Their voices were cheery, and clear, and unmistakably the voices of hobbits.

Tolkien smiled, and stopped before stepping any farther, simply observing the hobbits at their play. Gandalf stood beside him, and the rest stood behind them.

"They are so happy," remarked Tolkien.

"They'll be even happier when they see you." Gandalf said. "They've been looking forward to meeting you for so long."

"Let's not keep them waiting any longer, then." Tolkien said, and strode forward towards the hobbits. The hobbits' play stopped as they saw the approaching figures, and they ran forward, meeting Tolkien halfway, leaping on him and sending them all down in a pile, with the professor in the middle.

Gandalf and the elves looked on with smiles.

When Tolkien managed to regain his feet, he patted each of the hobbit's heads, and hugged Frodo warmly. "Where is your uncle, Frodo?" Tolkien asked, looking over the group of hobbits and seeing only, Sam Merry and Pippin.

"He's with Thorin," Frodo replied.

"That's to be expected," said Tolkien, releasing Frodo from his embrace and likewise hugging Sam, Merry and Pippin.

"Let's go see Bilbo." Tolkien announced, holding Merry and Pippin's hands.

"I'll race you there!" Frodo yelled, running off with Sam.

"Not me, I'm too old!" Tolkien laughingly called after them.

"You're much younger than me, Lord Tolkien." a voice declared, and Saruman emerged from the ring of trees. 

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**Tell me what you think. PLEASE!**


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